“You could shoot a cannon down Main Street and not hit anybody.”
I’m not sure if anyone has actually tried to prove those words but trust me - no one in my hometown will be harmed in an attempt at about 2 o’clock on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
Another familiar saying was likely uttered two seconds after the first one many, many years ago:
“There’s nothing to do.”
Because there were five children in our family I will hazard a rough guess and say that my mother and father heard those statements about five million times during their lives from Lannie (the oldest), Dale, me, Kim and Jane (the youngest).
(Add ‘there’s nothing to eat’ to the mix and I’d up my guess to 6.5 million in a snap.)
I strongly felt so many times I had nothing to do, loudly complained to anyone who would listen and even emphasized different words to get my point across.
If ‘there’s nnnooottthhhiiinnnggg to do’ didn’t get the point across I would try ‘there’s nothing to doooooooo’.
And if that didn’t work I’d try the ever-popular combo-complaint - there’s absolutely nnnooottthhhiiinnnggg to doooooooo.
["Ollie, in 50 years you'll fondly remember your first ride with Grandpa."]
Just about every time mother and sometimes dad came up with a quick response.
'Go outside and play' was their favourite, followed by ‘go see one of your friends’ or ‘have a drink of water’.
After my own children started to complain I realized that ‘go outside and play’ was code for ‘I don’t want to listen to you complain anymore - so git’.
I must have listened to my parents on occasion because I can now recall thousands of childhood experiences and adventures that prove there were lots of great things to do in a wee village on the other side of nowhere and, like old cheddar, seem better with age and every telling.
* Next Monday - There is nothing to do but sort the countless memories - Part 2
[Read more Monday Memoirs here]
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